Command (Storm MC 6)

Lines creased his forehead as he frowned. “Scott?” he asked, his voice thick with confusion.

“Yeah, motherfucker, I’m alive even though you worked to make sure I wasn’t. Griff’s still breathing, too, but you’ll see that for yourself any minute now.” I had no proof he was behind Griff and I getting shot at earlier, but the look that crossed his face was all the evidence I needed.

When he didn’t say anything, I asked, “Why?”

“Why, what?”

My anger flared at his continued charade. “Why the fuck did you turn on us?”

He stared at me for a few moments, hedging his bets by the look of it, before finally spitting out, “Marcus was right about you when he said you had a God complex. You shouldn’t have killed him. You shouldn’t be the fucking president of Storm!”

“I didn’t fuckin’ kill him.”

“That’s a lie.”

Griff’s voice sounded behind me as he clicked the door shut. “No, it’s not. Scott did not kill Marcus.”

Rogue’s gaze flicked to Griff. “You should both be dead for what you’ve done to the club.”

“What the fuck have we done that’s so bad? If anything, we’ve made it better,” I threw back.

“Marcus had a plan for the club, a plan that involved drugs and a whole lot of cash, and you two fucked with that plan. You fucked with my chance at a happy future.”

Clarity hit me. “So this all comes down to money.”

“Money and fucking happiness.”

I lowered my face closer to his. “There’s something to be said for clean cash, Rogue…cash that doesn’t hurt people. Marcus never gave a shit about whether his actions hurt other people, but Griff and I do. Storm will never fuckin’ deal in drugs again.”

Griff cut in. “So, you figured you’d feed Julio information about the club and let him take us down?”

Hatred burned in Rogue’s eyes. “I gave him what he needed to get to you two. He was supposed to take both of you out, as well as the other club members I’d identified as being opposed to drugs. I wouldn’t think for one second that just because you’re still breathing, you’re safe. Julio intends to control this state. Anyone who gets in his way will be taken care of.” He paused for a moment before adding, “And that bitch of yours sure did feel good warming my bed while you were away.” Another lie. They just seemed to fall from his mouth.

I clenched my jaw as I punched his face.

Motherfucker.

“I’m really fuckin’ happy that fire didn’t kill you, and that one of Harlow’s customers pulled you from it,” I snarled.

He spat blood from his mouth. “Fuck you.”

I punched him again. As the satisfaction coursed through me, I yelled, “No, fuck you!”

“We need to hurry this along, brother,” Griff warned.

I nodded. “Yeah.”

I yanked one of the pillows out from under Rogue’s head, enjoying the fear I saw in his eyes. His arms lashed out at me, trying to halt my progress, but nothing would stop me from this. When I finally had the pillow over his face, I pressed down hard while Griff restrained his arms. His body fought death and his grunts composed the soundtrack to his demise, but all I heard was the sweet, sweet music of triumph.

Finally, something is going our way.

* * *

As I eyed the drinks available in the hospital café, Griff said, “Blood is about to be shed, isn’t it?”

I grabbed a can of coke, a bottle of orange juice, a carton of strawberry milk and a green smoothie before answering him. Meeting his gaze, I said, “A lot of fuckin’ blood.”

“You thirsty, brother?” he said as he jerked his chin at the drinks in my arms.